


Eye Contact

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-24
Updated: 2010-06-24
Packaged: 2019-01-20 19:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12439884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: A bit of post-coital fluff and naughtiness.





	Eye Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).

Gene’s breath is ragged in Sam’s ear, his lips teasing the sideburn. Blearily Sam opens his eyes, his head lolling forward, and looks down between himself and Gene at his own limp, cum soaked cock blocking where the two of them are still joined together. Gene is kneeling with Sam’s right leg hooked around his waist and the other stretched further out behind him. The two of them are shivering slightly, from the cold and from holding this position, but Gene won’t release Sam from his grip. The older man seems to take great pleasure in grasping the small, hard-yet-soft waist and holding it to his own wider frame and Sam couldn’t, for the moment, imagine a more pleasant sensation than the feel of Gene’s hot, sweaty skin against his inner thighs and the other man’s cock still inside his sore hole.

 

Sam breathes in the scent of them both, -how it’s on Gene’s shoulder he neither understands nor cares- and he shifts gently, not wanting to separate them but to see what else he can feel. It works, and he feels the sting of the bruises on his back where Gene threw him across the desk in his office before the man grabbed his arm and brought him here; his house, the place where he never thought he’d be welcome.

 

He remembers now, something he’d said about a month before at the pub, it had felt like barely a rather tipsy remark then but now that moment, when he’d leaned forward slightly to try and force eye contact with his Guv, a waft of smoke barely obscuring those green eyes trying desperately to look elsewhere, feels very significant indeed;

 

‘Guv, just remember that there’s no one for me to run off and tell anyway. I wouldn’t do that, but even if I did, I can promise you Ray would probably pummel me ‘alf to death for “tellin’ fairy tales” before you even found me out. You’re right, it’s not my business… but if you’re bothered about something, I’m here. Just let me know somehow.’

 

Sam understands now why Gene couldn’t quite say this verbally. He’d discovered that Gene’s wife had left him around the same time that everyone else had via rather muted and occasionally cruel office rumours. He’d thought that perhaps Gene’s grumpy, miserable behaviour was attributed to the Missus’s sudden departure or at least an aspect of it; the abandonment, the confusion, or a sudden lack of confidence in his masculinity brought on by the fact that his wife had run off with another woman. He wouldn’t have blamed him for the latter, considering this day and age. He had just wondered why Gene could tell him about his brother and father but not this. Too soon, perhaps, he’d thought.

 

But when Gene brought Sam here he saw that the house was in a very good state considering its inhabitant was a 70’s alpha-male just abandoned by his woman. Gene eventually told Sam, the first words he’d spoken in a while, that his wife hadn’t really abandoned him at all;

 

‘Both agreed it was best… both fancied other people… Eventually felt like we were livin’ in homo-haven.’

 

That was the comment that made Sam feel brave enough to put his hand on the other man’s shoulder, and that was the movement that made Gene strong enough to grab the smaller man and kiss him.

 

There had been no mistaking Gene’s feelings when he’d thrown Sam onto the bed. Suddenly, Gene was alive again, ordering Sam to undress for him as he mirrored the actions, clumsy yet confident as he prepared Sam. He seemed unable to make up his mind where to put him, delighting in picking the younger man up, putting him on his front and smacking his arse, then turning him over and parting his legs. How they ended up straddling each other upright, Sam can’t quite remember.

 

Gene leans his forehead against Sam’s, stroking a hand down Sam’s chest to his belly, making him shudder. Gene strokes a finger through the sticky fluid down there, then brings it back up to his mouth, humming appreciatively. He grins; looking straight into Sam’s eyes whilst showing beautifully crooked teeth and Sam smiles back and leans in to lick at a bead of sweat slowly travelling down past Gene’s right eye.

 

Finally, they’ve found something that shuts them both up for a little while, loud as they are whilst they’re doing it, but for a short time afterward, words aren’t needed.

 

Until: ‘You should talk like this more often, Sammy boy. I might just listen.’


End file.
